You're surely questioning what they could be.
Four words?
I HATE YOU?
Nope. Only three.
You suck?
Two.
I ... wha-? ... okay, give up yet?
I don't see color.
I don't see color.
People say this constantly.
Showing posts with label how to talk like a mom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label how to talk like a mom. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
How Four Words Can Hurt
You're surely questioning what they could be.
Four words?
I HATE YOU?
Nope. Only three.
You suck?
Two.
I ... wha-? ... okay, give up yet?
I don't see color.
I don't see color.
People say this constantly.
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
Motherhood: I'm Keepin It Real
I yell at my child.
I do.
I did tonight.
It broke my heart after I did it.
She cried. I cried.
But I hit a wall.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Book of the Week: Women Are Scary, Melanie Dale
When I received an email introducing me to Melanie Dale and her new book with an opportunity to read and review it I jumped at the chance.
I mean - look at the cover? It's hilarious.
Even my husband asked me, are those cake pops?
Uhm, yeah. Yeah, they are.
Mommy cake pops.
Intimidating looking mommy cake pops.
And hilarious looking ones, as well.
Sunday, November 9, 2014
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Mornings.
Last week my husband was away at a conference. Our mornings were so different because we had to get up an hour earlier to catch the bus. Well, the child caught the bus, but I had to get her to it.
But somehow, getting up that much earlier made her more cooperative. Maybe it was the understanding of no back-up plan? I don't know, exactly, but I was good with it.
This? This is how my morning went this morning.
Admittedly, I was exhausted and didn't want to wake up when the husband tried to nudge me out of bed with a "Get up. Get uppppp. Get up!" or something like that. Who listens at that time of the day, anyway?
Wake up. Go pee. Brush teeth (I have to people, it just helps me function!).
Go wake the child.
Continue trying to wake the child.
Stick cold hands under child's blanket.
Calm dog. Talk to cat(s). Turn bathroom water on for cat. Break up cat fight.
Talk to other dog.
"CHILD. WAKE UP." Repeat several times.
Make child laugh. Mornings really are kind of beautiful until you realize that holy cannoli! You're going to be way too late to do all of the *downstairs things* if she doesn't get her but out of bed immediately.
Child complains that her eyes do not "adjust" well in the mornings. Yes. She - six year old that she is - used the word adjust at me.
"Keep them closed and I will walk you to the bathroom," and so I do.
Leave her in the dark bathroom with cat drinking from sink faucet. *Shoot. Is that water still on? I hope not. Better go check!
Child takes five years in the bathroom. Do your kids tend to have to poop in the mornings and take forever? No? Just mine?
Put clothes onto bed for child.
"CHILD. Come on! COME ON!"
Back to bedroom. Talk to dogs. Check lunch and breakfast menu on iPad to see if those are options today. Lunch isn't, breakfast could be.
Back to child's room.
"Let's go ..."
Child gets dressed. I go get the dogs. Hear the kiddo say, 'These socks are TOO TIGHT!' ... respond, "You're a big girl. Find yourself a pair of socks." Sigh loudly.
Leash boxer puppy Bella. She's crated because she doesn't like cats. Or likes them too much? We're not quite sure and don't want to test it out.
Bring dogs downstairs. Let them outside. Walk past Keurig and turn it on. Pantry for dog food. Bella starts barking outside. YELL at dogs.
I'm moving as fast as I can, you know?
They don't get it, these dogs.
Scoop dog food into bowls, let dogs in, take muffins out of pantry. The child has decided choices are too difficult these days. Make child hot chocolate (new thing in the mornings).
Start husband's coffee. Grab pack of Pop Tarts for him.
Cut pieces of muffin for daughter's breakfast. Decision made.
Start preparing lunch. Figure it's easier than asking. Choices and all.
Grab snacks for lunch. Fill cup with water for school. Cup stinks. Water bottle instead.
Next K-cup for husband's coffee.
Put toothpaste on child's toothbrush. Yes. I know. I shouldn't. But GOOD LAWD if I don't it's another ten minutes, seriously.
Put knot genie on bathroom counter.
"Go brush hair and brush teeth." Repeat several times.
Ask child if she wants to wear boots or sneakers today. Choice again, decide screw that. Get child's sneakers. PUT SNEAKERS ON CHILD'S FEET.
Don't tell me you've never done it. I won't believe you. Some days it's all I have to not have her stand still and do everything because I do it faster.
Remind child to brush hair and teeth.
Give husband his coffee.
Go start brushing child's hair while she brushes her teeth. (You're not alone, mama whose daughter shouts IT HURTS before you've really even touched her hair. I feel you.)
Get backpack and *jacket*. Offer child a choice again, but know her answer before she gives it. Eenie Meenie Miney Moe. Here you go.
Head outside, help child into vehicle. Hand her hot chocolate (forgot step - put hot chocolate in travel mug safe for child and vehicle and husband's sanity while driving). Kiss child goodbye.
Go around front and kiss husband.
Wave from porch.
Wave again.
Go into house.
Close and lock door.
Collapse.
Morning note: Try not to drink anything stronger than coffee while old man dog Dexter drives me crazy requesting to go outside, come back in, go outside, come back in.
Make myself coffee. Eat piece of muffin. Spend lots and lots of time on the Internet.
Listen to Carrie Underwood and feel powerful. Sip coffee.
Check time. Not even TEN? Whew. I need a nap.
Motherhood's amazing, isn't it? I honestly wouldn't trade a moment of it, but I had to share anyway. It was like a play-by-play this morning and I knew it would make a perfect (to me, anyway, hope you enjoyed) blog post.
Now, where did I leave my coffee ...?
But somehow, getting up that much earlier made her more cooperative. Maybe it was the understanding of no back-up plan? I don't know, exactly, but I was good with it.
This? This is how my morning went this morning.
Admittedly, I was exhausted and didn't want to wake up when the husband tried to nudge me out of bed with a "Get up. Get uppppp. Get up!" or something like that. Who listens at that time of the day, anyway?
Wake up. Go pee. Brush teeth (I have to people, it just helps me function!).
Go wake the child.
Continue trying to wake the child.
Stick cold hands under child's blanket.
Calm dog. Talk to cat(s). Turn bathroom water on for cat. Break up cat fight.
Talk to other dog.
"CHILD. WAKE UP." Repeat several times.
Make child laugh. Mornings really are kind of beautiful until you realize that holy cannoli! You're going to be way too late to do all of the *downstairs things* if she doesn't get her but out of bed immediately.
Child complains that her eyes do not "adjust" well in the mornings. Yes. She - six year old that she is - used the word adjust at me.
"Keep them closed and I will walk you to the bathroom," and so I do.
Leave her in the dark bathroom with cat drinking from sink faucet. *Shoot. Is that water still on? I hope not. Better go check!
Child takes five years in the bathroom. Do your kids tend to have to poop in the mornings and take forever? No? Just mine?
Put clothes onto bed for child.
"CHILD. Come on! COME ON!"
Back to bedroom. Talk to dogs. Check lunch and breakfast menu on iPad to see if those are options today. Lunch isn't, breakfast could be.
Back to child's room.
"Let's go ..."
Child gets dressed. I go get the dogs. Hear the kiddo say, 'These socks are TOO TIGHT!' ... respond, "You're a big girl. Find yourself a pair of socks." Sigh loudly.
Leash boxer puppy Bella. She's crated because she doesn't like cats. Or likes them too much? We're not quite sure and don't want to test it out.
Bring dogs downstairs. Let them outside. Walk past Keurig and turn it on. Pantry for dog food. Bella starts barking outside. YELL at dogs.
I'm moving as fast as I can, you know?
They don't get it, these dogs.
Scoop dog food into bowls, let dogs in, take muffins out of pantry. The child has decided choices are too difficult these days. Make child hot chocolate (new thing in the mornings).
Start husband's coffee. Grab pack of Pop Tarts for him.
Cut pieces of muffin for daughter's breakfast. Decision made.
Start preparing lunch. Figure it's easier than asking. Choices and all.
Grab snacks for lunch. Fill cup with water for school. Cup stinks. Water bottle instead.
Next K-cup for husband's coffee.
Put toothpaste on child's toothbrush. Yes. I know. I shouldn't. But GOOD LAWD if I don't it's another ten minutes, seriously.
Put knot genie on bathroom counter.
"Go brush hair and brush teeth." Repeat several times.
Ask child if she wants to wear boots or sneakers today. Choice again, decide screw that. Get child's sneakers. PUT SNEAKERS ON CHILD'S FEET.
Don't tell me you've never done it. I won't believe you. Some days it's all I have to not have her stand still and do everything because I do it faster.
Remind child to brush hair and teeth.
Give husband his coffee.
Go start brushing child's hair while she brushes her teeth. (You're not alone, mama whose daughter shouts IT HURTS before you've really even touched her hair. I feel you.)
Get backpack and *jacket*. Offer child a choice again, but know her answer before she gives it. Eenie Meenie Miney Moe. Here you go.
Head outside, help child into vehicle. Hand her hot chocolate (forgot step - put hot chocolate in travel mug safe for child and vehicle and husband's sanity while driving). Kiss child goodbye.
Go around front and kiss husband.
Wave from porch.
Wave again.
Go into house.
Close and lock door.
Collapse.
Morning note: Try not to drink anything stronger than coffee while old man dog Dexter drives me crazy requesting to go outside, come back in, go outside, come back in.
Make myself coffee. Eat piece of muffin. Spend lots and lots of time on the Internet.
Listen to Carrie Underwood and feel powerful. Sip coffee.
Check time. Not even TEN? Whew. I need a nap.
Motherhood's amazing, isn't it? I honestly wouldn't trade a moment of it, but I had to share anyway. It was like a play-by-play this morning and I knew it would make a perfect (to me, anyway, hope you enjoyed) blog post.
Now, where did I leave my coffee ...?
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Why can't I ever come up with a good blog post title?
I still hate it.
It's like the start of the year all over again.
Homework.
She is sitting at the table and writing like she never picked up a pencil before in her life.
I don't sit with her anymore. I learned that early on, but tonight? This time? I had to try to explain it to her, have her write the words and so forth and tell her the assignment. And so I watched her and I started sweating.
For G-dssake, child, don't hold the pencil like that.
Not like that, either.
Why are you doing this?
Why won't you write like a big girl?
She wraps her pencil in paper towel.
What?
Sit down, please.
Stop jumping rope.
It's 80-something degrees in here, we don't have the air on yet, and you're sweating like crazy.
SIT DOWN, PLEASE.
Most of this I did not say. Except the first few sentences. About the pencil.
I finally gave her some instruction and walked away.
It's not easy at this time of the year. I get it. It's hot and she just wants to sit down, snack, watch TV. Me, too. I'm human, I know.
She's been doing incredibly well lately, too. I don't feel broken anymore.
I've stopped overreacting.
For the most part, anyway.
It's been a good year, this first year apart.
It was rough going early on. Not for her, necessarily. She loved it. But for me. It wasn't easy.
I did learn not to miss her so much.
I also stopped making her the cutest lunches of all time. You guys knew I would. It was exhausting. I mean, it was cute and all. And she liked them. But she likes any kind of lunch I give her, so we're good.
For the most part we didn't have too many what I learned in Kindergarten moments.
Although she did apparently teach my husband that the "b-word" is not a nice thing to say. Awesome.
And she told me how a tornado is formed. Yup.
Riiiight.
I'll be the first to admit that science and I do not get along. So I'm glad she's got her daddy's brain when it comes to that sort of thing.
And I'm glad she had such a positive year.
And I'm also glad I have her scheduled for at least one week of camp this summer.
FOR NOW.
Because ... seriously?
I'm pretty sure I'm gonna have to chill some wine. A LOT of wine.
But hey, it's almost always 5 o'clock somewhere, right?
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
I'm a StrongMom. Are you?
Moms everywhere have felt it.
The tone of another mom's voice.
That look from one to another.
The words. "Ohhh, really?" "You did?" "Well, we ..."
Reactions are easy to let slip by. Sometimes we can't help ourselves.
Sometimes, though, we should stop and think about who we're judging.
What sort of example we're setting for our children.
My 6-year-old already rolls her eyes.
She jokes about it. But what if she saw it for real?
What if she saw me, her mother, the person she trusts more than almost anyone, do it towards another woman? Another mom? What kind of example would that be?
I'm tired of it. We hear lots of it in social media, the immediate backlash to those who judge. The immediate need to respect and the desire to stand strong, together, the whole lot of us.
I feel it, too. I've said it before, in fact.
I went over to Shell's place and said it loud. Check out some of my thoughts on the mommy wars.
And now, I'm saying it again, and taking a pledge to say it louder! And to encourage you to do it, too.
I judge myself enough for the both of us. Doesn't every mom?
Don't moms wonder if they're broken, doing something wrong for their little ones?
And how many of us feel we need a break from parenting?
Do you cringe when you can't stand your kid's favorite annoying toy? Yeah, me, too.
Parenting is exhausting. Moms crash and burn even if it makes us sad. It really just shows that we're normal.
Truth. There's no such thing as a mom manual. There are no instructions when our babies are born. We do the best we can. As best we can. Always. You do it your way and I will do it mine.
You do you.
And stop judging others who do differently. They're just doing their thing, too.
Take a few minutes to head on over to StrongMoms Empower to take the pledge today.
Empower each other. Support one another. Be a friend.
Turn a blind eye to the messy house and bring over some coffee or cupcakes.
Offer to hold the baby while she takes a quick, uninterrupted shower.
Feed the baby and reserve judgment. You likely have NO idea how she came to the decision on how to feed. Formula or breast milk. It's not your business anyway. The baby is eating, being cared for? Yes? That's all that matters.
Hold the door open at Target. Steady her cart while she unloads.
Reach out to a fellow mom. Show her you care. It matters. We matter to one another.
And consider taking this quick pledge today! StrongMoms Empower. Won't you?
** I am participating in the StrongMoms Empower campaign with One2One Network. I have not been compensated in any way for this post. All expressed opinions are completely my own.
Monday, February 4, 2013
You know you're a mom when ...
It's that time of the week again.
Time to share your moments of motherhood with us all.
I love that so many of you linked up with me last week, and I will remind everyone that old posts are welcome, as well as new and current ones.
I'm just happy to see some smiling faces on the other end of those links!
Today's post is perfect timing.
My daughter was home today with a fever.
Boo, hiss, right? Stinks.
You know you're a mom when you sleep with one ear open for the child with the fever, and wake up with a start when you realize she slept all night long and you were dead to the world.
OMGAHHHH! Is she OKAY????
She was. Whew.
You know you're a mom when you can slip in and out of her bedroom, stick a thermometer in her ear all without waking her so you can decide that yes, she DOES need to stay home today. But whew. She can sleep in a bit and give you a few moments of solitude before the day truly begins.
You also know your role when you take on the part of waitstaff as your child sits on the couch - snotty and stuffy - staring with her glazed over eyes at the TV for the last few hours.
Soup? Why, of course!
Perry (of Phineas and Ferb fame) for your first course. Princesses for your second.
You know you're a mom when you can manage to sell $42 worth of Girl Scout Cookies, while maintaining your cool, keeping your dogs calm and your child from freezing after running outside in her pajamas - all in the span of 15 minutes.
And when you manage to single-handedly roll up hot dogs in crescent rolls and get the oven going.
And when you find yourself eating three empty crescent rolls for your own dinner.
After your lunch, or what wasn't stolen of it, consisted of TGI Friday's frozen spinach and artichoke dip and chips. Yesterday WAS Super Bowl Sunday, after all. And being the mom that you are, you pulled together an extremely enjoyable spread of TGIF Mozzarella sticks, Anytizer Chicken Fries (ranch flavored, which was weird, but good at the same time), the aforementioned spinach-artichoke dip (which, being the smart mom that you are, you stocked up and bought two of!) and cheese/pepperoni/crackers and Cheetos. Beautiful, right? Being the social media mom that you are you SHOULD have taken pictures. But you didn't. So, yeah.
Instead you dove into the Peanut Butter sandwich GS cookies, which aren't even your favorites, but give you three instead of two, so you could eat like six - right before bed - after not working out for the entire weekend, unless you count wrangling five 5-year-olds as they sold cookies in front of the local Kroger.
You're also obviously a mom when you sit your sick kid in front of your laptop just so you can have a few hours of TV time and catch up on General Hospital.
FRISCO'S BACK, Y'ALL!! *I haven't seen him yet and admittedly am terrified, did you get a look at him on DWTS? EEk. And he'd better have long hair, or else. I mean it. Totally. And can SOMEONE get Robert out of that freakin' coma?*
Only to be distracted after you finish an episode when you spot Jason on his new stupid show of Y&R. Damn him. He's still Jason. Sorry. I just don't see this Dylan/Mac character working out.
Now, where was I?
Right. Writing this while listening to the annoying and fairly odd parents in the background.
And craving spinach. But I don't think I have any. Or tissues. Totally need tissues.
So, there you have it. Today's ramble. Please consider linking up below with me this week to share your mommy moments. I'd love it if you linked back over here but I've yet to turn my "button" into one that links you over, so I forgive myself for slacking if you forgive me, too.
Ciao! Au revoir! Hasta la vista! Adios! Shalom! Bona note!
You are next... Click here to enter
This list will close in 4 days, 15 hrs, 25 min (2/11/2013 11:59 PM North America - Eastern Standard Time)
Time to share your moments of motherhood with us all.
I love that so many of you linked up with me last week, and I will remind everyone that old posts are welcome, as well as new and current ones.
I'm just happy to see some smiling faces on the other end of those links!
Today's post is perfect timing.
My daughter was home today with a fever.
Boo, hiss, right? Stinks.
You know you're a mom when you sleep with one ear open for the child with the fever, and wake up with a start when you realize she slept all night long and you were dead to the world.
OMGAHHHH! Is she OKAY????
She was. Whew.
You know you're a mom when you can slip in and out of her bedroom, stick a thermometer in her ear all without waking her so you can decide that yes, she DOES need to stay home today. But whew. She can sleep in a bit and give you a few moments of solitude before the day truly begins.
You also know your role when you take on the part of waitstaff as your child sits on the couch - snotty and stuffy - staring with her glazed over eyes at the TV for the last few hours.
Soup? Why, of course!
Perry (of Phineas and Ferb fame) for your first course. Princesses for your second.
You know you're a mom when you can manage to sell $42 worth of Girl Scout Cookies, while maintaining your cool, keeping your dogs calm and your child from freezing after running outside in her pajamas - all in the span of 15 minutes.
And when you manage to single-handedly roll up hot dogs in crescent rolls and get the oven going.
And when you find yourself eating three empty crescent rolls for your own dinner.
After your lunch, or what wasn't stolen of it, consisted of TGI Friday's frozen spinach and artichoke dip and chips. Yesterday WAS Super Bowl Sunday, after all. And being the mom that you are, you pulled together an extremely enjoyable spread of TGIF Mozzarella sticks, Anytizer Chicken Fries (ranch flavored, which was weird, but good at the same time), the aforementioned spinach-artichoke dip (which, being the smart mom that you are, you stocked up and bought two of!) and cheese/pepperoni/crackers and Cheetos. Beautiful, right? Being the social media mom that you are you SHOULD have taken pictures. But you didn't. So, yeah.
Instead you dove into the Peanut Butter sandwich GS cookies, which aren't even your favorites, but give you three instead of two, so you could eat like six - right before bed - after not working out for the entire weekend, unless you count wrangling five 5-year-olds as they sold cookies in front of the local Kroger.
You're also obviously a mom when you sit your sick kid in front of your laptop just so you can have a few hours of TV time and catch up on General Hospital.
FRISCO'S BACK, Y'ALL!! *I haven't seen him yet and admittedly am terrified, did you get a look at him on DWTS? EEk. And he'd better have long hair, or else. I mean it. Totally. And can SOMEONE get Robert out of that freakin' coma?*
Only to be distracted after you finish an episode when you spot Jason on his new stupid show of Y&R. Damn him. He's still Jason. Sorry. I just don't see this Dylan/Mac character working out.
Now, where was I?
Right. Writing this while listening to the annoying and fairly odd parents in the background.
And craving spinach. But I don't think I have any. Or tissues. Totally need tissues.
So, there you have it. Today's ramble. Please consider linking up below with me this week to share your mommy moments. I'd love it if you linked back over here but I've yet to turn my "button" into one that links you over, so I forgive myself for slacking if you forgive me, too.
Ciao! Au revoir! Hasta la vista! Adios! Shalom! Bona note!
You are next... Click here to enter
This list will close in 4 days, 15 hrs, 25 min (2/11/2013 11:59 PM North America - Eastern Standard Time)
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Whattaya' know?
It's that time of the week again.
Sometimes I link up and sometimes I don't, but I'm always happy to have the opportunity to do so.
So here I am with a mostly light Pour Your Heart Out ...
You know you got dressed in the dark when you determine that your underwear is on inside out, and it's too late to change because you have to get the kiddo to the bus and you've been proactive and put your sneakers on early and if you decide to strip down and do it all over you're going to exhaust yourself before you even stand up.
Oh, who me? No. No. That didn't happen to me. Of course not. *Cough cough.*
You know you're PMSing when all you can think about is trying to make no-bake cookies that you've never been successful at because you just cannot seem to figure out exactly how long the water or mixture is supposed to boil, or what the heck a rolling boil actually is. And yet you want to try anyway.
That's not me, either, of course.
You know you got up extra early when you're ready for another meal or snack before noon and have already finished two cups of Magic Stars and almond milk, an apple and a cup of coffee.
And a mini-mini-pumpkin-mini-muffin.
Guilty as charged.
You also know you got up pretty early when it feels like this has been the longest day ever and not only is it not yet noon - but it's not even 11:30.
Oops.
And if I start to go into the you know you're totally slacking on holiday gifts because Chanukah starts on DECEMBER NINTH and you have like 3-4 things purchased at this point and time that's probably going to give it away and ensure that you know that YES. I'm talking about ME.
AHHHHHH!
Happy Hump Day, everybody.
p.s. You know that writing this post put you in the mood for a warm beverage and a sweet treat, so you opted for some chai tea and a gluten-free cinnamon doughnut just 'cause.
Yeah, you know it!
Doughnut is missing a bite now. It's a little heavy so it might not get finished, but then I'll - I mean you'll obviously need to find something to replace it to satisfy your sweet tooth. How about those no-bakes? Off to Pinterest you go ...
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Everything I need to know ...
I supposedly learned in Kindergarten.
Well, so far my daughter has learned:
* To stay on green and not go to yellow, orange or red.
* It will take four blues to get to purple, and she is not even remotely close at this time.
* Little girls will call her ugly, stupid and make fun of her clothes, shoes and other things.
* These behaviors will make me want to head up to the school and tell off these little brats for talking like this to my beautiful child.
* The child has learned how to flip someone off. Mainly me.
I'll set the scene. It's bedtime. She's practically under the covers. I hear her rustling and she says, "Mommy, do you know what this means?" and up comes her middle finger.
What the WHA?
Who showed you that, I asked? So-and-so, the little friend from the bus. You shouldn't do that, it's not very nice. You don't do that to people because it isn't nice and because if you do you could get into a lot of trouble.
"Okay, Mommy, I won't do this ..." (I JUST TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT!!!)
Explanation continued, with words like, trouble, not nice, mean, we don't do that. These words were correlated in her little head to be 'like when you tell someone they are ugly and that isn't nice,' so what's a mom to do?
Yes, I said. That's exactly right.
We don't use the word stupid in our house and now I get to worry about other little kids calling her ugly or stupid? Whatever, dudes. This is not acceptable.
I need to put these wee ones in their place. Okay, fine, they just need to stop it. It's not cool. AT ALL.
Then my husband calls me this morning after drop-off to tell me she told him that yesterday on the way home she was crying on the bus because *A* (her little middle-fingered-friend) didn't sit with her. They always sit together.
And so it begins.
Sigh.
What's next - I wonder? Any ideas?
All I can say is that if my child wants to go to school with her hair done in multi-braided randomness, I, for one, am going to LET her. She's FIVE. She deserves to express herself as best she can - within reason - and if some little goober is going to make fun of her I am going to support her through it and teach her that it ISN'T NICE to talk to people that way and we should respect our differences.
Saying someone is ugly or stupid is wrong. It's not a nice way to treat our friends.
SO THERE.
Now look ... isn't she beautiful?
I THINK SO.
Well, so far my daughter has learned:
* To stay on green and not go to yellow, orange or red.
* It will take four blues to get to purple, and she is not even remotely close at this time.
* Little girls will call her ugly, stupid and make fun of her clothes, shoes and other things.
* These behaviors will make me want to head up to the school and tell off these little brats for talking like this to my beautiful child.
* The child has learned how to flip someone off. Mainly me.
I'll set the scene. It's bedtime. She's practically under the covers. I hear her rustling and she says, "Mommy, do you know what this means?" and up comes her middle finger.
What the WHA?
Who showed you that, I asked? So-and-so, the little friend from the bus. You shouldn't do that, it's not very nice. You don't do that to people because it isn't nice and because if you do you could get into a lot of trouble.
"Okay, Mommy, I won't do this ..." (I JUST TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT!!!)
Explanation continued, with words like, trouble, not nice, mean, we don't do that. These words were correlated in her little head to be 'like when you tell someone they are ugly and that isn't nice,' so what's a mom to do?
Yes, I said. That's exactly right.
We don't use the word stupid in our house and now I get to worry about other little kids calling her ugly or stupid? Whatever, dudes. This is not acceptable.
I need to put these wee ones in their place. Okay, fine, they just need to stop it. It's not cool. AT ALL.
Then my husband calls me this morning after drop-off to tell me she told him that yesterday on the way home she was crying on the bus because *A* (her little middle-fingered-friend) didn't sit with her. They always sit together.
And so it begins.
Sigh.
What's next - I wonder? Any ideas?
All I can say is that if my child wants to go to school with her hair done in multi-braided randomness, I, for one, am going to LET her. She's FIVE. She deserves to express herself as best she can - within reason - and if some little goober is going to make fun of her I am going to support her through it and teach her that it ISN'T NICE to talk to people that way and we should respect our differences.
Saying someone is ugly or stupid is wrong. It's not a nice way to treat our friends.
SO THERE.
Now look ... isn't she beautiful?
I THINK SO.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Happy Mother's Day, Momma
Dear Momma,
It's Mother's Day. I know you say that every day is Mother's Day, but you know what? Today is still that special day where I apologize for not sending your card in time, send your gift too late, and think of you for 24 hours straight. Not that I don't do that all the time, but today - well - it's different.
I guess we can thank Hallmark for that. But that's okay. You deserve many a day filled with moments of love, joy, emotion and smiles. And hugs. Lots and lots of the best hugs ever.
And so today I wish I were home in New York with you and Pops. Just because.
I wish we lived a few minutes away from one another so we could come over and be with you and the family. I wish we could watch the girls run around the living room, take out every single toy, and try to both fit on your lap at the same time. (Not so easy now that they're five!)
I wish a lot of things, but I know that no matter how many miles apart we are - you know that Mother's Day for me equals you.
It means you. It means your mother before you. And Dad's mom, too.
It means my aunts, my extra moms, and all the mommas who are no longer around to squeeze and send flowers to on this simple day.
It means all of the kids at your school who call you Ma. I'll let them do that. Because they're not all as lucky as I am. They don't all have you. And who am I to not share you with them? They need you right now. They need MY little momma.
Because my guess is that you're the one who will remind them to not leave out.
You're the one who makes sure they have an umbrella when it's pouring outside - even if it has to come from the lost and found.
You'll probably also make sure they don't hang out outside of their classrooms and get their butts to their class on time.
You're the one who will walk block after block in the blizzard to make sure they have their snow boots for the walk home. (Oh, wait, that was just for me. And yes, it was mortifying. But my feet were warm.)
You're the one who waited up for me late at night, leaving the light on no matter what time I came home.
The one whose hand I held when I crossed every single street.
The one who brushed my hair and parted it, half-up, half-down. Uneven pigtails. I see them when I do my daughter's hair. That same look. Only I never use a comb. Why should I? I know they don't work anyway.
The one who played Tri-ominos with me when I was home from school, sick with fever.
The one whose eyes and smile I see all the time. The one I laugh and cry with. Tears flowing whenever we have to say goodbye. It's not easy - living 500 miles away from my family. It's not easy being so far from my mother.
But miles don't matter, honestly. Truly. Because I know you'd be here in an instant if I needed you. And you know that works both ways.
And no matter how far away we are, we talk all the time. We see each other (thank goodness for Skype!) often. And we share. We always share.
And for all that and more ... I love you, Mom. Always and forever.
Thank you. For everything. For being the best mom in the world.
Love, ME
It's Mother's Day. I know you say that every day is Mother's Day, but you know what? Today is still that special day where I apologize for not sending your card in time, send your gift too late, and think of you for 24 hours straight. Not that I don't do that all the time, but today - well - it's different.
I guess we can thank Hallmark for that. But that's okay. You deserve many a day filled with moments of love, joy, emotion and smiles. And hugs. Lots and lots of the best hugs ever.
And so today I wish I were home in New York with you and Pops. Just because.
I wish we lived a few minutes away from one another so we could come over and be with you and the family. I wish we could watch the girls run around the living room, take out every single toy, and try to both fit on your lap at the same time. (Not so easy now that they're five!)
I wish a lot of things, but I know that no matter how many miles apart we are - you know that Mother's Day for me equals you.
It means you. It means your mother before you. And Dad's mom, too.
It means my aunts, my extra moms, and all the mommas who are no longer around to squeeze and send flowers to on this simple day.
It means all of the kids at your school who call you Ma. I'll let them do that. Because they're not all as lucky as I am. They don't all have you. And who am I to not share you with them? They need you right now. They need MY little momma.
Because my guess is that you're the one who will remind them to not leave out.
You're the one who makes sure they have an umbrella when it's pouring outside - even if it has to come from the lost and found.
You'll probably also make sure they don't hang out outside of their classrooms and get their butts to their class on time.
You're the one who will walk block after block in the blizzard to make sure they have their snow boots for the walk home. (Oh, wait, that was just for me. And yes, it was mortifying. But my feet were warm.)
You're the one who waited up for me late at night, leaving the light on no matter what time I came home.
The one whose hand I held when I crossed every single street.
The one who brushed my hair and parted it, half-up, half-down. Uneven pigtails. I see them when I do my daughter's hair. That same look. Only I never use a comb. Why should I? I know they don't work anyway.
The one who played Tri-ominos with me when I was home from school, sick with fever.
The one whose eyes and smile I see all the time. The one I laugh and cry with. Tears flowing whenever we have to say goodbye. It's not easy - living 500 miles away from my family. It's not easy being so far from my mother.
But miles don't matter, honestly. Truly. Because I know you'd be here in an instant if I needed you. And you know that works both ways.
And no matter how far away we are, we talk all the time. We see each other (thank goodness for Skype!) often. And we share. We always share.
And for all that and more ... I love you, Mom. Always and forever.
Thank you. For everything. For being the best mom in the world.
Love, ME
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Motherhood makes me tired.
So my daughter has been a little bit of hell on wheels lately.
Twitter tells me it's normal - because, you know, she's five and all.
And this past weekend (oh, yeah, it's usually on the weekends - like whenever my husband and I have something planned to get us the heck out of dodge for say, a few hours, maybe? And then our plans? They get sucked into nowhere land. But I digress ...) was no exception.
She threw some sort of fit as we headed on some random errands and were going to grab some dinner out. "Strawberries! Strawberries! I want to go pick strawberries!"
This was on Friday night, if I recall correctly. Or maybe it was Saturday. See, that's the thing. She has these fits and cries and loses herself and knock wood or spit a few times we haven't had the physical explosion in a week or two, I guess, but the attitude and actions/reactions suck nearly as badly. And then I have no idea what day it is. Or when it happened. Or anything much at all.
So where was I? Right. Strawberries. My husband drove around and redirected us, so maybe we could at least pick up a bucket of strawberries or something. He was being reasonable. I wasn't having it - and the more she recited a stream of "Please, please, PLEASE!" the more we decided against that plan.
She wasn't listening. At all.
Some days I am so tired that all I can focus on is her meltdowns. Like right now, I'm typing this to say how we actually had some good moments last night. Some great ones. It was fun. It was positive. And instead I have to reprimand her for taking over the remote control and messing with the DVR.
NOT FUN. Not fun at all.
Damnit.
Ah, and now that's what happens. The slightest thing triggers me and I lose track of a positive.
It's not fun. It's mommy feeling on edge. Maybe emotionally charged. Maybe PMSing. Maybe on overload with various things that have set me off, I don't know. I just know that when the behaviors happen, I have to confess. I curse. A LOT. Not at her, but about her actions. Usually TO my husband. Like driving around in the Jeep I found myself saying things like, "Every FUCKING weekend!" and banging my hand against the side door.
Double damnit.
So my title changes and a post that was supposed to cover how fun it was to take my beautiful 5-year-old daughter to The Children's Place and take her into the dressing room to try on clothes and actually have a successful shopping trip (the last time we were there I walked out with her, she was awful. I put every single thing I had picked up for her down and back. No shopping for you, little girl!) and then head over to the bookstore and have her behave well there, too. And this was all after actually eating dinner, the three of us, without any storming off or mess-making issues.
So while all that was well and good and wonderful, I worry myself about when the next dose of attitude will be. When will I have to plop her into time out next? Send her to her room? Raise my voice?
I remind myself she is only five.
I remind myself how very much I love her.
And I remind myself I ALWAYS WILL.
But I also remind myself that I am human. I'm a mom, a strong one, but I'm a human being. And I'm entitled to anxiety, stress-related reactions, and to be TICKED OFF when my child refuses to listen in a way I know she can.
Le sigh.
Thanks, peeps. Thanks for listening. Despite where this post turned.
I poured my heart out, indeed.
Twitter tells me it's normal - because, you know, she's five and all.
And this past weekend (oh, yeah, it's usually on the weekends - like whenever my husband and I have something planned to get us the heck out of dodge for say, a few hours, maybe? And then our plans? They get sucked into nowhere land. But I digress ...) was no exception.
She threw some sort of fit as we headed on some random errands and were going to grab some dinner out. "Strawberries! Strawberries! I want to go pick strawberries!"
This was on Friday night, if I recall correctly. Or maybe it was Saturday. See, that's the thing. She has these fits and cries and loses herself and knock wood or spit a few times we haven't had the physical explosion in a week or two, I guess, but the attitude and actions/reactions suck nearly as badly. And then I have no idea what day it is. Or when it happened. Or anything much at all.
So where was I? Right. Strawberries. My husband drove around and redirected us, so maybe we could at least pick up a bucket of strawberries or something. He was being reasonable. I wasn't having it - and the more she recited a stream of "Please, please, PLEASE!" the more we decided against that plan.
She wasn't listening. At all.
Some days I am so tired that all I can focus on is her meltdowns. Like right now, I'm typing this to say how we actually had some good moments last night. Some great ones. It was fun. It was positive. And instead I have to reprimand her for taking over the remote control and messing with the DVR.
NOT FUN. Not fun at all.
Damnit.
Ah, and now that's what happens. The slightest thing triggers me and I lose track of a positive.
It's not fun. It's mommy feeling on edge. Maybe emotionally charged. Maybe PMSing. Maybe on overload with various things that have set me off, I don't know. I just know that when the behaviors happen, I have to confess. I curse. A LOT. Not at her, but about her actions. Usually TO my husband. Like driving around in the Jeep I found myself saying things like, "Every FUCKING weekend!" and banging my hand against the side door.
Double damnit.
So my title changes and a post that was supposed to cover how fun it was to take my beautiful 5-year-old daughter to The Children's Place and take her into the dressing room to try on clothes and actually have a successful shopping trip (the last time we were there I walked out with her, she was awful. I put every single thing I had picked up for her down and back. No shopping for you, little girl!) and then head over to the bookstore and have her behave well there, too. And this was all after actually eating dinner, the three of us, without any storming off or mess-making issues.
So while all that was well and good and wonderful, I worry myself about when the next dose of attitude will be. When will I have to plop her into time out next? Send her to her room? Raise my voice?
I remind myself she is only five.
I remind myself how very much I love her.
And I remind myself I ALWAYS WILL.
But I also remind myself that I am human. I'm a mom, a strong one, but I'm a human being. And I'm entitled to anxiety, stress-related reactions, and to be TICKED OFF when my child refuses to listen in a way I know she can.
Le sigh.
Thanks, peeps. Thanks for listening. Despite where this post turned.
I poured my heart out, indeed.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Reflections of Motherhood
My daughter is five.
It's no secret that five can be a rough year. We're only a few months in. Honestly, we're only a month in and a few days change.
And the last 2-3 days have been completely horrendous.
Awful.
Bringing on the tears.
For us both.
Last night she stood at the foot of my bed, after staying in our room a little bit late to watch Too Cute. One of those adorable Animal Planet shows on cute cats. We love them. She loves them. And then.
She stood there and asked if I'd walk her to her room. Yes. I will. I motioned to shut down what I was working on/looking at and whack. Yes. Sound effects are needed. Whack. She somehow managed to smack me in the side of my face with my husband's belt.
What the heck?
That's what I said. What the heck. I had a lot of other words at the ready. But she's five - remember? I couldn't let them fly. I wouldn't.
So as tears sprung into my eyes I asked her to go to her room. Mommy needs a minute.
And I went into the bathroom, turned on the fan, sat on the toilet and started bawling.
Bawling.
Me. The mom. Exhausted and spent.
I knew it wasn't on purpose. It wasn't. It was totally an accident. And if she had been swinging the belt and not hit me I would have said something like - you know Daddy's belt is not a toy. Put it down. Away. Stop it.
I didn't have the chance.
And I wasn't crying because of the pain. Though it hurt like a sonofagun, believe you me.
I was crying from exhaustion. Because yesterday at Target we were those parents. The ones you look at in sympathy. If you're nice, anyway. Because the ones that stare and are in awe? Well, obviously never had a five year old plant their feet and flash their attitudes outside in public. And the night before last? We were the parents who had our child sass talk and give all sorts of attitude and then not allow us in her room to the point that we had to physically move her - away from her door - away from hurting herself. The backwards hug, I eventually explained as she calmed down. Remind me sometime to talk about it. It's truly an incredible thing. I'm sure many moms and dads do it, but teaching it to your kid as a backwards hug to keep them safe really works.
We are not a spanking family. We choose not to be. And I chose to introduce my child to the concept (again, just the concept) of what some family's do as discipline in their homes. I explained - "Mommy and Daddy do not do this to you, but some children who act as you do get spanked on their bottoms."
I was exhausted. Spent.
And am.
We got ourselves together to go for a late breakfast just now. We were dressed. Shoes on. Even her cute little purse was ready.
And she would not move forward. She would not listen to my husband. She would not get past the point of focus she had. We tried nicely. We asked. We ordered. We stated. And then I turned around and said, We're not going.
She lost it. Yet again.
Sometimes it's all we have. To take away the things that they are moving towards. The things that are theirs. The things that mean something. And yes, it messes up our plans. Our day. Our sights set on a fun batch of errands as a family. One of the two days my husband is home during the week. We hate that. Hate that it is ruined. But what are we to do?
I remind her. Mommy loves you. Mommy always loves you. Mommy is just disappointed in your behaviors and doesn't like you very much right now.
You always love me?
Yes. ... Yes is what I say as I walk into the other room with tears in my eyes.
Motherhood. Parenting. It can be full of the greatest joys. But it can also be so rough. Scratchy. Heart-hurting. We all get through it. We all relate. But man. Some days I wish the rough spells would dissolve more quickly. Because if this is what it is like at age 5? What the hell will 15 look like?
It's no secret that five can be a rough year. We're only a few months in. Honestly, we're only a month in and a few days change.
And the last 2-3 days have been completely horrendous.
Awful.
Bringing on the tears.
For us both.
Last night she stood at the foot of my bed, after staying in our room a little bit late to watch Too Cute. One of those adorable Animal Planet shows on cute cats. We love them. She loves them. And then.
She stood there and asked if I'd walk her to her room. Yes. I will. I motioned to shut down what I was working on/looking at and whack. Yes. Sound effects are needed. Whack. She somehow managed to smack me in the side of my face with my husband's belt.
What the heck?
That's what I said. What the heck. I had a lot of other words at the ready. But she's five - remember? I couldn't let them fly. I wouldn't.
So as tears sprung into my eyes I asked her to go to her room. Mommy needs a minute.
And I went into the bathroom, turned on the fan, sat on the toilet and started bawling.
Bawling.
Me. The mom. Exhausted and spent.
I knew it wasn't on purpose. It wasn't. It was totally an accident. And if she had been swinging the belt and not hit me I would have said something like - you know Daddy's belt is not a toy. Put it down. Away. Stop it.
I didn't have the chance.
And I wasn't crying because of the pain. Though it hurt like a sonofagun, believe you me.
I was crying from exhaustion. Because yesterday at Target we were those parents. The ones you look at in sympathy. If you're nice, anyway. Because the ones that stare and are in awe? Well, obviously never had a five year old plant their feet and flash their attitudes outside in public. And the night before last? We were the parents who had our child sass talk and give all sorts of attitude and then not allow us in her room to the point that we had to physically move her - away from her door - away from hurting herself. The backwards hug, I eventually explained as she calmed down. Remind me sometime to talk about it. It's truly an incredible thing. I'm sure many moms and dads do it, but teaching it to your kid as a backwards hug to keep them safe really works.
We are not a spanking family. We choose not to be. And I chose to introduce my child to the concept (again, just the concept) of what some family's do as discipline in their homes. I explained - "Mommy and Daddy do not do this to you, but some children who act as you do get spanked on their bottoms."
I was exhausted. Spent.
And am.
We got ourselves together to go for a late breakfast just now. We were dressed. Shoes on. Even her cute little purse was ready.
And she would not move forward. She would not listen to my husband. She would not get past the point of focus she had. We tried nicely. We asked. We ordered. We stated. And then I turned around and said, We're not going.
She lost it. Yet again.
Sometimes it's all we have. To take away the things that they are moving towards. The things that are theirs. The things that mean something. And yes, it messes up our plans. Our day. Our sights set on a fun batch of errands as a family. One of the two days my husband is home during the week. We hate that. Hate that it is ruined. But what are we to do?
I remind her. Mommy loves you. Mommy always loves you. Mommy is just disappointed in your behaviors and doesn't like you very much right now.
You always love me?
Yes. ... Yes is what I say as I walk into the other room with tears in my eyes.
Motherhood. Parenting. It can be full of the greatest joys. But it can also be so rough. Scratchy. Heart-hurting. We all get through it. We all relate. But man. Some days I wish the rough spells would dissolve more quickly. Because if this is what it is like at age 5? What the hell will 15 look like?
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Naked Barbies, Pretzel Ice Cream and why Samuel L. Jackson needs to come to my house
I'm so tired. I'm freaking exhausted. My husband was away for work all last week and my daughter decided to use that as a perfect way to show that she was "sad" and she "missed Daddy" and she just would not go to sleep before midnight. I'm on the fast track to some melatonin here - and it may happen for real soon. And no, I don't mean for me. I already take it on occasion. As needed, and all.
And seriously, people. Will I ever learn to spell occasion on the first try? How hard is it? TWO Cs and then one S. Two first. One next. Sigh. One of these days.
So, today I hung out at Maggie Moos all day. Yep. An ice cream place. We did a fundraiser for the mom's group I volunteer with (read=find my sanity from. And some of my insanity, as well!) and I hung out from about 2-4:30 or so. And I only bought one cup of ice cream. That's pretty impressive for that long a window of time, no?
And yes, my friends. I know that now you're shifting your eyes up to the title of this post. Thinking to yourself - really? Pretzel ice cream? No. No way. What on earth? But yes. It IS real. And it was pretty good! Although I am regretting not adding a mix-in. I should have gone with those M&Ms I was eyeing. Instead I opted for a scoop of that and a scoop of Cinamoo. Any guesses what that one is made of? I did learn that if you call them at Maggie Moos and ask them to get your flavor ready, they'll do it for you. I see visions of gallons of Chai ice cream in my future. As that totally and absolutely rocks. R-O-C-K in the USA. Say what?
Ah, yes. You must be wondering about the whole naked Barbie thing. Yep. She's in that stage. My child. My 4-year-old. I bought her a few "Barbie" type dolls today at a consignment sale (total score that there was one in the BUILDING we play soccer in!) So I gave her one as a surprise when we got in the car. She loved it. Supposedly it was Alex from Wizards of Waverly Place ... go on ... join me now, you know you want to ...
Who says?
Who says you're not perfect?
Who says you're not worth it?
Who says you're the only one who ... something?
Who says, what's the use in crying ... something something something?
Whoooo Says?
Nanananananana! Lalalalalalalla!
Who says?
Yes, I like it. What of it? I am just hoping Selena doesn't go the way of Vanessa Hudgens and chop off all her hair as a rebellion of sorts while her ex-Zac becomes the available eye candy for women everywhere. Or something like that. Poor thing. She was so cute, too. Ah, well.
Now, where was I? Oh, right. Naked Barbies. The first thing this child wanted to do was take the doll's clothing off. I mean straight away. We avoided it until tonight when I got home, but I told her that this stuff was so fitted that I might not be able to help her get it back on poor miniature Selena. Which would not be good for our visit to NY in the future when she would get to connect with my niece's three or four Justin Bieber dolls. No, that wouldn't be pretty at all.
And lastly, if anyone sees Samuel L. Jackson while you're out and about, please ask him if he'd be willing to come to my house. I don't have a budget that I'm sure he is used to, but with fall approaching - or here just not here in NC here - I'm happy to make him some pumpkin muffins, or oatmeal, or coffee, or pretty much any recipe he finds on Pinterest as long as it's 5 ingredients or less. ANYTHING at all. As long as he can help me get my kid the f*ck to sleep.
And seriously, people. Will I ever learn to spell occasion on the first try? How hard is it? TWO Cs and then one S. Two first. One next. Sigh. One of these days.
So, today I hung out at Maggie Moos all day. Yep. An ice cream place. We did a fundraiser for the mom's group I volunteer with (read=find my sanity from. And some of my insanity, as well!) and I hung out from about 2-4:30 or so. And I only bought one cup of ice cream. That's pretty impressive for that long a window of time, no?
And yes, my friends. I know that now you're shifting your eyes up to the title of this post. Thinking to yourself - really? Pretzel ice cream? No. No way. What on earth? But yes. It IS real. And it was pretty good! Although I am regretting not adding a mix-in. I should have gone with those M&Ms I was eyeing. Instead I opted for a scoop of that and a scoop of Cinamoo. Any guesses what that one is made of? I did learn that if you call them at Maggie Moos and ask them to get your flavor ready, they'll do it for you. I see visions of gallons of Chai ice cream in my future. As that totally and absolutely rocks. R-O-C-K in the USA. Say what?
Ah, yes. You must be wondering about the whole naked Barbie thing. Yep. She's in that stage. My child. My 4-year-old. I bought her a few "Barbie" type dolls today at a consignment sale (total score that there was one in the BUILDING we play soccer in!) So I gave her one as a surprise when we got in the car. She loved it. Supposedly it was Alex from Wizards of Waverly Place ... go on ... join me now, you know you want to ...
Who says?
Who says you're not perfect?
Who says you're not worth it?
Who says you're the only one who ... something?
Who says, what's the use in crying ... something something something?
Whoooo Says?
Nanananananana! Lalalalalalalla!
Who says?
Yes, I like it. What of it? I am just hoping Selena doesn't go the way of Vanessa Hudgens and chop off all her hair as a rebellion of sorts while her ex-Zac becomes the available eye candy for women everywhere. Or something like that. Poor thing. She was so cute, too. Ah, well.
Now, where was I? Oh, right. Naked Barbies. The first thing this child wanted to do was take the doll's clothing off. I mean straight away. We avoided it until tonight when I got home, but I told her that this stuff was so fitted that I might not be able to help her get it back on poor miniature Selena. Which would not be good for our visit to NY in the future when she would get to connect with my niece's three or four Justin Bieber dolls. No, that wouldn't be pretty at all.
And lastly, if anyone sees Samuel L. Jackson while you're out and about, please ask him if he'd be willing to come to my house. I don't have a budget that I'm sure he is used to, but with fall approaching - or here just not here in NC here - I'm happy to make him some pumpkin muffins, or oatmeal, or coffee, or pretty much any recipe he finds on Pinterest as long as it's 5 ingredients or less. ANYTHING at all. As long as he can help me get my kid the f*ck to sleep.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
A Letter to My Daughter ... I wish
My dear, sweet, little one,
I woke up this morning to the sound of your voice calling me. Mommy! So different from years before. I celebrated many a birthday before you, and hope to celebrate many more with you in my world. And yet, how things have changed. On my own special day I find myself wishing for so much for you in your own future.
I wish that you should never suffer from loneliness, but that you should learn to enjoy being alone.
I wish that you should never suffer from heartache, heartbreak, but that you should always risk being loved and loving others just the same.
I wish you strength that never ends, but an ability to tear down any of the walls you, yourself, set up.
I wish for you an open heart and mind, so you'll learn, respect and grow through the changes in your life, but an intensity that sticks to your own beliefs and succumbs to no one.
I wish for you the insight and understanding that will get you through the rough days, and I have hopes that you don't have too many.
I wish for you the mindset to always remember that even when you feel left out, alone or sad that there are people out there who love and cherish you, and that you can walk away when you're standing beside someone who does not.
I wish for you so much more than these words can express, and I hope that when I hold you tightly that you can feel them coming from within.
I love you. I love you with my whole heart. I wish for you to know that now and always.
Love, Mommy
p.s. I will promise to forgive you for just saying to me: 'When you get a little older I'll get you a cake and sing you a birthday song. When you're bigger.' And for not letting me sing along with Moose A. Moose, who happened to be singing directly to ME. I love you. **Mom
I woke up this morning to the sound of your voice calling me. Mommy! So different from years before. I celebrated many a birthday before you, and hope to celebrate many more with you in my world. And yet, how things have changed. On my own special day I find myself wishing for so much for you in your own future.
I wish that you should never suffer from loneliness, but that you should learn to enjoy being alone.
I wish that you should never suffer from heartache, heartbreak, but that you should always risk being loved and loving others just the same.
I wish you strength that never ends, but an ability to tear down any of the walls you, yourself, set up.
I wish for you an open heart and mind, so you'll learn, respect and grow through the changes in your life, but an intensity that sticks to your own beliefs and succumbs to no one.
I wish for you the insight and understanding that will get you through the rough days, and I have hopes that you don't have too many.
I wish for you the mindset to always remember that even when you feel left out, alone or sad that there are people out there who love and cherish you, and that you can walk away when you're standing beside someone who does not.
I wish for you so much more than these words can express, and I hope that when I hold you tightly that you can feel them coming from within.
I love you. I love you with my whole heart. I wish for you to know that now and always.
Love, Mommy
p.s. I will promise to forgive you for just saying to me: 'When you get a little older I'll get you a cake and sing you a birthday song. When you're bigger.' And for not letting me sing along with Moose A. Moose, who happened to be singing directly to ME. I love you. **Mom
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Monday, Monday ...
Tomorrow is Monday. What does Monday feel like to you?
Mondays, for me, mean that hubby heads back to work and that I spend day after day, hour after hour, home with my daughter.
Sometimes Mondays bring me one step closer to a night out with friends, though I have nothing planned this coming week.
This week I took my Sunday for grocery shopping, and miracle of miracles -- I shopped BY MYSELF! OMG! I so mean it was a miracle. I can't recall the last time I actually had that opportunity. I'm so serious. It was amazing. Not only no child, but my hubby was with the child, so no hubby, either. Ah, the thrill of it. Those of you who have this opportunity often, don't take it for granted. It's an incredible experience. It can even be peaceful, almost tranquil as you maneuver the aisles. heh heh. Yes, I seem to have lost my mind, don't I? I haven't. I can't even begin to express how relaxing it was to be able to sort through my coupons as I walked through the store, and pulled myself over to the side of the aisle without a cranky child or husband tagging along. A total thrill, I tell you.
Mondays mean meal planning, when I'm on the ball. And this week I actually am so on the ball, having done grocery shopping today, that I've planned my dinners for the week. Hooray! No last minute, 6PM calls on what to eat or what to have hubby pick up on his way home. That will be nice for a change. Especially since there are almost always the nights when 6PM is when he calls to say he has no idea when he will be coming home. Ah, the fun of it.
So, what's on your agenda for tomorrow?
Mondays, for me, mean that hubby heads back to work and that I spend day after day, hour after hour, home with my daughter.
Sometimes Mondays bring me one step closer to a night out with friends, though I have nothing planned this coming week.
This week I took my Sunday for grocery shopping, and miracle of miracles -- I shopped BY MYSELF! OMG! I so mean it was a miracle. I can't recall the last time I actually had that opportunity. I'm so serious. It was amazing. Not only no child, but my hubby was with the child, so no hubby, either. Ah, the thrill of it. Those of you who have this opportunity often, don't take it for granted. It's an incredible experience. It can even be peaceful, almost tranquil as you maneuver the aisles. heh heh. Yes, I seem to have lost my mind, don't I? I haven't. I can't even begin to express how relaxing it was to be able to sort through my coupons as I walked through the store, and pulled myself over to the side of the aisle without a cranky child or husband tagging along. A total thrill, I tell you.
Mondays mean meal planning, when I'm on the ball. And this week I actually am so on the ball, having done grocery shopping today, that I've planned my dinners for the week. Hooray! No last minute, 6PM calls on what to eat or what to have hubby pick up on his way home. That will be nice for a change. Especially since there are almost always the nights when 6PM is when he calls to say he has no idea when he will be coming home. Ah, the fun of it.
So, what's on your agenda for tomorrow?
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Rinse, Lather, Repeat
Anyone else feel like this is how your days go?
Wake up. Pee. Brush teeth (if you can get it in!), wash face. Come downstairs.
Let the dog out. Feed the cats. Let the dog in. Feed the dog.
Feed the child. Maybe now, maybe later. Depends on the time. Child wants to watch "a little TV" at her little table for breakfast time. Log onto computer while sitting on couch.
Figure out my own breakfast. Toasted bread of some sort, slightly buttered with 1/2 an avocado. My fave breakfast. EVER. Soy milk. Take allergy and happy pills.
And the day has officially begun.
Don't even get me started on the nights. But at least the days are slightly different. But the words are sometimes the same.
No.
Because I said so. (I admit it, I've used it once or twice in exhaustion.)
What do you want to eat?
You can't have bugs for breakfast.
That's too fancy, too hot, too small, too big ... pick something else.
Stay in my bed and watch TV while mommy takes a shower.
PLEASE!
Close the doooooor!
You can't leave the back door open because if the cats leave they won't come back.
It's too hot for a walk.
Please don't chase Dexter/Harley (anyone else she might be after at that moment!)!
Be nice to Angel.
We can't start it at the beginning, this TV doesn't DO that.
Stay in your bed, or I'm leaving.
I love you.
I love you, too.
And those last two are the reasons that I wouldn't change it for anything in the world.
Wake up. Pee. Brush teeth (if you can get it in!), wash face. Come downstairs.
Let the dog out. Feed the cats. Let the dog in. Feed the dog.
Feed the child. Maybe now, maybe later. Depends on the time. Child wants to watch "a little TV" at her little table for breakfast time. Log onto computer while sitting on couch.
Figure out my own breakfast. Toasted bread of some sort, slightly buttered with 1/2 an avocado. My fave breakfast. EVER. Soy milk. Take allergy and happy pills.
And the day has officially begun.
Don't even get me started on the nights. But at least the days are slightly different. But the words are sometimes the same.
No.
Because I said so. (I admit it, I've used it once or twice in exhaustion.)
What do you want to eat?
You can't have bugs for breakfast.
That's too fancy, too hot, too small, too big ... pick something else.
Stay in my bed and watch TV while mommy takes a shower.
PLEASE!
Close the doooooor!
You can't leave the back door open because if the cats leave they won't come back.
It's too hot for a walk.
Please don't chase Dexter/Harley (anyone else she might be after at that moment!)!
Be nice to Angel.
We can't start it at the beginning, this TV doesn't DO that.
Stay in your bed, or I'm leaving.
I love you.
I love you, too.
And those last two are the reasons that I wouldn't change it for anything in the world.
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